


Live Long, and Prosper

by SaintHeretical



Series: Star Crossed [1]
Category: Star Trek, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Star Trek Fusion, F/M, Fuck Or Die, Interspecies Romance, Pon Farr, Romulans, Starfleet Academy, Virgin Kylo Ren, Vulcan, Vulcan Culture, gratuitous name dropping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-30
Updated: 2018-09-30
Packaged: 2019-07-15 04:59:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 19,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16056029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaintHeretical/pseuds/SaintHeretical
Summary: While on Vulcan for an off-world exchange, Starfleet cadets Rey and Finn stumble over a Romulan plot to sever Vulcan's ties with the Federation. The Romulans' traitorous contact is Admiral Leia’s half-Vulcan son Kylo (formerly Ben Solo), who is convinced Vulcans and Humans should be segregated, an opinion shaped by his parents' tumultuous inter-species romance.Unfortunately, Kylo is also just entering his first Pon Farr, and is becoming more and more distracted by a certain visiting Starfleet cadet, much to his anger and embarrassment.





	Live Long, and Prosper

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Reylo Fanfiction Anthology project Two Solitudes That Meet. 
> 
> My chosen planet is Vulcan (from the Star Trek fandom). This is set approximately 25 year after the events of Nemesis. The stardates are rough estimations based on the parameters indicated on Memory Alpha.
> 
> I am first and foremost a massive Star Trek fan, so it was my absolute pleasure to write this piece. I hope you enjoy it :)

 

_ Personal Log, Stardate: 70255.56 _

_ After three and a half semesters at Starfleet Academy, it’s finally time for my first off-world exchange. I’m hoping for Utopia Planitia, even though Finn says that Mars is such a boring choice. To be honest, I don’t really care about the distance; all I want is to be able to watch those amazing engineers build starships that can cross the galaxy. _

“Vulcan?” Rey wrinkles her nose, her finger still pressed against the viewscreen. “Well that’s- that’s exciting.” The flatness of her voice belies her disappointment, a stark contrast to the excited yells of her fellow cadets crowding around the display. 

Frowning, Finn squints over her shoulder at the lists of names and assignments. He nods, confirming her observation. “Vulcan.” He shrugs. “At least we’re together, hey?”

It’s not that she doesn’t  _ like _ Vulcans. Far from it, she’s always found Vulcan culture intriguing, their commitment to logic and objectivism contrasted with their amazing histories and swathes of informative databases. It’s just that spending time on a sandy, hot planet during their windstorm season doesn’t have the same level of appeal as watching starships being constructed against the background of crisp, open space. 

She manages a small smile as she trudges away from the crowd. “Yeah, that’s pretty awesome.”

“We can wander ancient tombs together, explore old science vessels...take in a comedy show or two.” He grins and lightly nudges her with his elbow. “We’ll make it fun.”

“Of course.”

Their banter is interrupted by a familiar gravelly voice, edged in gravitas. “A Vulcan comedian. What an amusing concept.”

Rey and Finn spin around in unison to discover that they’re being observed by two senior officers, seated casually on a curved bench against the railing of the promenade. Admiral Leia Skywalker is a vision in traditional Vulcan robes of the darkest burgundy, her communicator and pips the only hint of her Starfleet rank. Next to her is Lieutenant Poe Dameron, a Human whose piloting skills are only rivaled by the memory of Leia’s brother, Luke Skywalker. His helpfulness and amiability is legendary amongst the cadets, who treat him as more of a confidante or mentor figure than just any officer. Today, the Lieutenant is wearing his trademark cheeky grin, which contrasts with the Admiral’s neutral expression.

Finn and Rey immediately snap to attention, their backs straight and hands clasped.

Admiral Leia tilts her head slightly to one side. Her greying hair is pulled back in a simple, elegant bun, which exposes the delicately pointed tips of her ears. All together, she paints the very picture of dignified composure, and Rey suddenly becomes very self conscious of her wrinkled uniform and fidgeting hands. 

“At ease, cadets. Come, take a seat.”

Letting out a deep breath, Finn swings his arms to the side and sits down on the curved bench next to Lieutenant Dameron, leaving the space next to the Admiral for Rey. She pauses, obviously intimidated, which prompts the Admiral to comment, “There is no need to be scared, cadet. This is just a casual chat.”

“O-okay.” Rey wipes her sweaty hands off on her tunic and sits down next to the older woman. 

“I couldn’t help but overhear that both of you have been assigned to Vulcan,” the Admiral comments. “It should prove to be a very educational outcome.”

“Yes, very.” Finn nods. “We’re very excited and honoured to be chosen.”

Rey nods as well. “It’s sure to be a very enlightening experience. Do you often get back to Vulcan, Admiral?”

Leia takes a moment to respond, her face a touch more solemn than before. “No, I do not. My duties here, along with other personal attachments, do not give me a lot of time to make the trip. It is always a very meaningful excursion, and it would be beneficial for me to see my brother more often.’

She pauses for a moment, considering something, then mentions, “You’re free to choose the standard accommodations for your assignment, but I urge you to consider staying with my brother Luke. He’s expressed interest in hosting cadets in the past. Luke is a very wise man full of many life experiences, and has countless connections at the Science Academy.” She quirks an eyebrow. “As well, it would do him some good to show the two of you around. He spends far too much time buried in Surak’s texts for his own good. It’s a wonder that he has retained his ability to speak.”

Poe snorts. “Barely.”

Rey’s eyes go wide at Poe’s blatant insult of the Admiral’s brother, but instead of chastising him, the older woman simply glances at him and nods. “Cheeky.”

Biting his lip, he grins and nods. “My apologies for overstepping, Admiral. I forgot that making fun of Commodore Skywalker is your duty, not mine.”

“ _ Former  _ Commodore. And I accept your apology.” She turns back to the two cadets. “The location is ideal, very comparable to staying on campus, and the accommodations are far more stately. The Academy can be a bit sterile.”

“Your brother’s house sounds wonderful, sir.” Finn glances over at Rey, who nods. “We would be honoured to accept any hospitality he has to offer.”

“Excellent. I will let him know, and forward the details to both of you.” She turns to Lieutenant Dameron. “Now Poe, you were saying there’s a new light armoured runabout you wanted to show me?”

“Yes, of course Admiral.” Nodding to both cadets, he stands and offers her a hand. “This way, ma’am.”

Rey watches their retreating backs, only truly relaxing once they’re out of sight. “Admiral Skywalker is such a kind woman, but also  _ so _ intimidating.”

“Yeah,” Finn breathes. “Remember our first day in Astrotheory 101 where she called out that Bolian who fell asleep?

“Zish?”

“Yeah, that guy. He fell right off of his chair, and I remember thinking, ‘That’s someone you don’t mess with.’”

“And now we’ve agreed to stay at her brother’s house.” Rey wrinkles her nose. “Why did we agree to that again?”

Finn’s eyes go wide. “Did you want to be the one to say no to her?”

“Good point.”

*

They’ve been allotted two days to finish their assignments and pack up their belongings into a standard issue Starfleet duffel bag before their transport to Vulcan is scheduled to leave. It’s an easy task for Rey, as her nomadic upbringing left her with only a few sentimental treasures. A few uniforms, PADDS, novels on isolinear chips, and a raggedy stuffed targ with buttons for eyes complete her list, and the bag is light on her shoulder as she waits for Finn at the terminal on departure day.

He arrives only a couple minutes before they’re scheduled to leave, emerging from the crowd with his own bag in tow.

“Finn!” she hisses. “You’re so late!”

“Am not.” He juts out his chin. “The ship hasn’t even left yet.”

“I swear, you’re going to be the death of me,” she groans, adjusting her own load. 

“I haven’t killed you yet!” he announces triumphantly. This earns a couple of strange looks from other officers and cadets gathered at the terminal, which he laughs off with a wave of his hand. 

She pretends to be frustrated, but it’s really just a mix of excitement and nerves. The realities of her first off-world experience --  the transport, the immersion into another culture, and staying with Admiral Leia’s brother -- seem to be rushing towards her at breakneck speed. She feels overwhelmed by all of these opportunities. She’s grateful as well, but still winded.

Their transport vessel is an old  _ Bradbury _ -class starship that has certainly seen better days, judging from the debris lodged in the crannies of her hull and the exterior scrapes from many dockings gone awry. This doesn’t stop Rey from gawking, fascinated by the glow of the nascelles and the sheer size of the vessel.

“P- I mean, Lt. Dameron told me he learned how to fly on this ship. Fly a major vessel, that is,” Finn explains. “So the condition of the hull...that’s on him.”

“Ah.” She smiles and, taking in a deep breath, she steps onto the ship and follows Finn to the observation gallery, just outside of the mess hall. The corridors of the ship are outfitted in standard Starfleet style (grey, grey, and more grey), complete with wall to wall carpeting that certainly used to be pristine, but has obviously seen years of cadet boots. It lends an air of well worn comfort to the ship, like an old sweater with holes at the elbows. 

“I figured you would want to see this before we drop off our stuff.” Finn motions to the expansive viewport opening up to a panorama of the glittering stars in front of them.

Rey’s heart clenches with gratitude. “Thank you for thinking of me,” she mumbles. “I know you’ve probably seen this all loads of times-”

“No matter. It never gets old.” He leans against the viewport, gaze wandering over the vastness of space. “I remember the first time I was on a starship, when I left home, right after my parents-” His voice trails off for a few moments and his eyes mist over as he’s transported back to the memory of that day. “After the Orions attacked, Deneva didn’t feel much like home to me anymore. When I boarded my first Federation ship that day, I experienced my first taste of freedom. And the moment that ship went to warp-” He whistles. “Magical.”

“You were what, seven or eight years old at that time, right?” she wonders. 

“Yeah. A few years older than you were.”

Rey frowns. “It’s so frustrating that I can’t remember most of my experience, even though I wasn’t that much younger. It must be so nice to be able to relive the memory of your first spaceflight.”

Shrugging, Finn wraps his arm around her shoulders, and squeezes her close, just as the stars start to blur around them. “That’s the nice thing about memories, Peanut. We can always choose to make new ones.”

*

_ “This is your Captain speaking. Please note that we are due to dock at Vulcan spaceport 21B in approximately one hour. All Starfleet cadets disembarking at this point, please prepare your belongings and gather at the transport room in an orderly fashion.” _

Rey groans, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes as she peels herself off of her bunk. Her initial worries about being unable to fall asleep in space were apparently unfounded; the exhaustion of the day coupled with the vestibular hum of the warp core lulled her into a deep, dreamless state that she’s having a hard time shaking. 

Sluggishly, she dresses in her spare uniform, then squashes her sleepwear and yesterday’s clothing into her duffel, all while stifling a string of jaw-cracking yawns. She halfheartedly brushes her teeth, checking the mirror above to ensure that her physical appearance does not flagrantly violate Starfleet standards. Her hair is only halfway stringy, so she pulls it up into her regular three bun style, scraping her fingers against her scalp to ensure every strand is out of her face. 

Finn is already in the mess when she arrives. She nods a quick thank you to the chef, grabs her bowl of porridge, and plops down next to him, shoving hot cereal into her mouth as quickly as she can.

“I didn’t expect it to go by so fast,” she says in between bites. “I feel like we just boarded.” 

“Probably because we just did.” Finn takes a sip of his coffee and winces. “Ugh. Replicated stuff tastes like battery acid.”

Her knees bounce nervously under the small mess hall table. “Did the Admiral tell you where we’re supposed to meet her brother?”

“She said he’s going to meet us at the transporter on the surface.” He shrugs. “Seems pretty clear to me.”

Despite any worrying, the rest of the trip to Vulcan transpires smoother than Rey would have anticipated. They meet in the transporter room with the other cadets, transport down to the surface, and are greeted by a small group of family members, valets, and other people waiting for their arrival. As their fellow cadets hurry around meeting up with their transportation, Rey and Finn crane their necks, trying to catch a glimpse of Leia’s mysterious brother.

“Is that him?”

“No, I think that’s him over there.”

“Wait.” Rey squints, convinced her eyes are playing tricks on her. “Is that-?”

The crowd thins, revealing a short, grizzly looking man dressed in dusty beige robes. He’s holding a sign, a  _ paper _ sign, with the words ‘REY AND FINN’ scrawled across it in messy handwriting. She looks over at Finn, whose eyebrows are raised pretty much to his hairline.

“Well, I guess that’s him,” he says, matter of fact. Hitching up his bag, he crosses the transporter pad and sticks out his hand. “Luke Skywalker? I’m Cadet Finn Smith.”

“Ah, Finn. May I call you Finn?” Luke’s voice is softer than Leia’s, but still touched with the gruffness of age. “And is that Rey?”

She scrambles forward. “Yes, sir,” she breathes. Frowning, she gestures to the sign. “Thank you for the,  _ ah-” _

“It’s an old Earth tradition,” Luke explains, folding up the paper and putting it away into a pocket of his robes. “I thought it would be humorous.”

He doesn’t smile,  _ per say _ , but the way his eyes crinkle up at the corners is close enough to a smile to be confusing, especially coming from a dedicated scholar of the  _ Kir’Shara _ , the Vulcan philosophy of logic and stoicism that permeates their culture. Even his appearance is confusing, from his roughspun, threadbare robes to the light brown, greying hair worn long enough to drag against his shoulders.

He notices her stare. “Not what you expected?” he asks, giving her another half-smile with a twinkle of his eyes.

“I- no, actually. You’re much-”  _ Freer? Looser? More unkempt?  _ “-less serious than I expected.”

“I see my sister didn’t sufficiently brief you on my various eccentricities.” He nods. “No matter, it’s better this way.” 

Leading them out of the transporter room, he darts down a hallway which opens up to a massive, multi-storey foyer composed almost entirely of glass. “This is the Federation Embassy on Vulcan,” he mentions, casually waving a hand. “Impressive, but entirely impractical for the climate.”

The space is buzzing with activity, filled with all sorts of officers of various species. Rey picks out a Klingon, two Bajorans, and a massive crowd of Andorians before she’s hurried along by Finn’s hand at her elbow. Luke is right about the glass; it acts as a sort of greenhouse, trapping the planet’s harsh sunlight and amplifying it enough to make her feel like she’s being roasted alive.

“Did they decide not to use environmental controls?” Finn asks, sweat beading already on his brow.

Luke looks back, the hint of a smirk on his lips. “This is with environmental controls.”

Mercifully, he takes them out to an open air landing bay. There she can truly take in the majesty of Vulcan’s surface. Endless, flowing mountains, the red-tinged sky, even the crisp dryness of the air strikes her as so stark and unforgiving, yet somehow beautiful at the same time. She kicks at the ground, rustling a tiny cloud of orange dust into the air, and smiles. “It’s beautiful here.”

“You think so?” Finn looks around. “It’s hot.”

She wrinkles her nose. “Well, yeah, it’s hot. But it’s beautiful too. So different. Earth is blue and green and wet, and here it’s red and orange and so dry. But still just as full of life.”

“If you say so.”

They stop at an absolutely ancient speeder parked at the farthest edge of the bay. “Before you ask, yes, it is older than both of you combined,” Luke deadpans, then hops into the driver’s seat with ease. Finn and Rey both clamber into the bench seat behind him, and then they’re off, the wind whipping through their hair as Luke drives them out into the open expanse of Vulcan landscape. 

It’s a short drive, only about ten kilometres, before he parks in front of a complex of small, interconnected stone buildings. Luke jumps out of the speeder and gestures to the front gate. “Welcome to my home.”

Finn and Rey gape, shamelessly, at the sight.

“Wow.”

This property is a testament to the majesty of Vulcan architecture, simple lines juxtaposed with luxurious materials. It’s far from the harsh glass and metal building where they arrived; this home is warm and inviting, trimmed with tasteful greenery and neutral tapestries, as if it had been exposed by the elements over time instead of just being built.

The gate opens into a large, open air seating area. Rey sighs and runs her fingers over sandstone planters, revelling in the way the beige of the stone perfectly compliments the deep green of the desert flora.

Finn lays his bag down on the entryway bench, a gorgeous piece constructed of Vulcan teakwood. “So what do you do at the Science Academy, Commo-”

“- _ former  _ Commodore,” Luke corrects. “Since I relinquished my commission, I no longer carry a rank. It would be inaccurate for you to refer to me as such.”

“R-right.” Finn flashes a wide-eyed look over his shoulder to Rey, who shrugs and goes back to examining the plants. “I apologize.”

“I accept your apology.” Luke steps down to the sitting area and takes a seat on a sleek, tan leather chair. “As for your initial query, I used to assist researchers in the flight mechanics division. As a former pilot, I was uniquely equipped with the experience to express certain realities of spaceflight to engineers who have never left the planet, and as a former senior Starfleet officer, I had been granted enough rank to understand the intricacies of working within a bureaucracy.”

His frankness startles Rey, who abandons the plants to seat herself across from Luke. “Would you say the workings of the Science Academy are similar to those at Starfleet? Or is it quite different?”

Luke raises an eyebrow. “Far be it from me to expose all the dirty secrets of my species, but such workings did end up being the reason why I eventually discontinued my work with the Academy. Such strict adherence to misunderstood dogma proved detrimental to getting any actual work done. So now I spend my time reading, mostly.”

“Reading.” Finn eyes Luke skeptically. “You spend all day reading?”

“It’s shocking, isn’t it? For a man who once worked as a pilot, fighting in space battles, to spend his twilight years poring over ancient texts. Yes, Cadet, I spend all day reading. My dedication to my studies is most likely the reason why Leia encouraged the two of you to stay with me. She probably thinks it will push me to leave the house.”

“Oh, we don’t have to-” Rey looks over at Finn, who shakes his head in agreement. “I mean, the Academy has pre-planned curriculum for us.”

“Are you saying you would rather bury your nose in dry, Starfleet supplementary PADDS than to spend the day exploring ancient ruins with a master scholar of the Kir’Shara?” He shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“That is not at all what we meant, Master Skywalker,” Rey stutters. “We would love to have you guide us around.”

Luke snorts. “I was kidding, Rey. It’s another one of my eccentricities.” He reaches over to a leather bound tome placed on the end table, and pats it like it’s a family pet. “When you’ve spent as much time with old Surak as I have, you realize that life is too short to restrict yourself to the dryness of a perfectly logical life. Sometimes a bit of balance is in order.”

*

He’s been on Vulcan for over six years now, and he’s still struck everyday by the majesty of the stark landscape before him. Taking a sip of his beverage, Kylo Ren’s eyes scan the horizon, catching on every ship taking flight in the distance. “According to our surveillance, alien visitation to Vulcan has reduced by 7 percent over the past year,” he comments.

He glances up at Hux, who is typing furiously on his PADD and nodding, “Excellent. Are there any extraneous factors that may be influencing the drop in numbers? Or do you believe it is due to our efforts?”

Kylo raises a dark eyebrow at the other man’s questions. “I have analyzed all Federation activity for any external influence on the drop, and there appears to be none. As such, I believe our efforts have been successful thus far.”

Leaning back in his chair, Hux surveys the busy street outside their balcony. Hundreds of dark haired Vulcans, robed and hooded, calmly walk alongside transports and other mobility aids. Some are wearing Starfleet uniforms, or Human-inspired garb, but for the most part they have chosen to clothe themselves in tradition Vulcan garments, designed over the years to protect the skin from the dry winds and harsh sun. 

“Centurion Phasma has reported that anti-Federation sentiment amongst intra-planetary communications has increased as well,” he reads off of his PADD. “This is especially notable amongst youths aged 25-50 years. General Snoke will be pleased to hear this progress.”

“Will you be meeting with him today?” Kylo asks. 

“In three to five days. Whenever he has an opening.” Frowning, Hux pokes at the dish of brownish grains in front of him. “I am aghast that this establishment has the nerve to call this lirs _. _ The flavour is distinctly off.”

Kylo shakes his head. “This is the standard flavour of the dish.”

Hux leans across the table and hisses, “Sometimes I forget that you Vulcans like to criminally under-season your food.”

“Sometimes I forget you Romulans take joy in massacring traditional delicacies.” Kylo bites back, careful, as always, to modulate his tone into the flat, emotionless drone that’s expected of him.

It’s been harder lately, something he’s just been able to admit to himself. He came to Vulcan to learn moderation and discipline, to temper his tempestuous Solo blood that always seemed to be boiling just below the surface. Initially it went well; socializing with fellow Vulcans proved to be less triggering for his Human side, and he was eventually able to suppress his more volatile tendencies. However, within the last few days, something has been off.

Perhaps it’s too much time with Romulans. He chances a glance at Hux over his mug of raktajino. The other man is barely tolerable at the best of times, and completely insufferable on most days. If it weren’t for his smooth browline and delicate features, which allowed him to pass undercover as a Vulcan, Kylo doubts Snoke would have any use for him at all. 

“What motivates you to drink that swill?” Hux angles his chin towards Kylo’s cup.

“Raktajino?” Kylo takes a sip. “The flavour is well balanced, and the caffeine content is higher than that of standard coffee.”

“Is that so?” The other man pushes his food around on his plate, muttering, “It seems odd that a man so committed to cultural purity would partake in a Klingon beverage.”

Kylo tilts his head to the side. “It appears then that you fundamentally misunderstand my motives. I do not wish to eradicate the products of other cultures from Vulcan, nor do I wish to completely isolate Vulcan from the rest of the galaxy. I simply think that Vulcan has become too intertwined with the Federation, which has produced undesirable results.”

“Vague. By undesirable results, do you mean genetic abominations like yourself?”

He pushes the barb under many years of discipline, and faces Hux, unashamed. “Something like that, yes.”

A hot gust of wind blows past their seats, bringing with it a distinctly Human odor. Kylo suppresses a scowl, his memory of daily nasal numbing agents while serving in Starfleet lingering on the back of his mind. It’s not that the smell is unpleasant, it’s just  _ distracting _ , especially in the normally neutral environment.

He glances down and immediately spots the source of the scent. It’s two humanoid life forms, dressed in plain beige tunics, who are investigating the Kolinahr temple across the street. One figure appears to be a Human male, young, with dark hair, eyes, and skin. He’s followed by a presumably female companion. Her face is slightly softer than that of the average Vulcan female, with full, rounded cheeks tinged pink from the heat. She’s wearing a scarf wrapped around her head, no doubt to help protect her light skin from the harsh Vulcan sunlight. A lack of other phenotypical indicators, such as a nose ridge or cascading spots, indicates that she must also be Human. 

The male seems to be engrossed in whatever information is listed on his PADD, while the female examines the pitted, sand coloured stones around her, her green eyes bright with interest. Normally Kylo would feel revulsion at the sight of a Human examining sacred grounds, but instead he finds her curiosity  _ fascinating. _

Another gust of wind blows down the street, dislodging the female’s scarf from around her shoulders, which frees her brown, shoulder length hair to the mercy of the breeze. The strands dance around her face, releasing a scent of some sort of artificially replicated Earth flower and soap, along with an odour he can’t identify, something honeyed and warm.

She lets out a yelp of protest, and turns around to retrieve her scarf from the ground, giving him a good view of her plush lips and tall, fit frame. She looks strong and capable, yet still deliciously feminine. 

A shiver runs through the entire length of his body, so strong he can barely suppress a shudder from bubbling up on his face. His heartbeat quickens to approximately 110% of its normal pace, and he can feel a flush creeping up his cheeks to the tips of his ears. Despite his best efforts, his stare remains glued on the Human female, until she and her companion disappear through the temple door. 

“Who were they?” he hears himself say, his focus still fixed on her retreating back.

Hux lets out a quiet snort. “Cadets from Starfleet Academy, hosted by  _ your _ uncle. Why he’s hosting them is beyond me. No doubt put up to it by your mother.”

Kylo glances back at the temple and, sure enough, sees the familiar grizzled form of Luke Skywalker poking his head out from the temple door. 

“Do you know how long they’ll be here?”

Brow furrowing, Hux shakes his head. “I believe the usual off-world exchange lasts around thirty standard days, but we haven’t researched this particular batch of cadets. Why?”

“No reason.” Kylo takes a bite of his food, calming himself.  _ Damn human nerves, so temperamental for no good reason.  _

“Are you ill?” Hux asks sharply. “You’re looking a bit green.”

“Must be the  _ lirs _ ,” he snaps back. “You had mentioned that the taste was off.”

“Of course.” Hux gives him a suspicious stare. “The lirs. Must be.”

*

It’s not the lirs. 

Of course it isn’t. That wouldn’t make sense; he’s been feeling off for days, and it’s not simply a case of nausea. 

It’s  _ everything _ , like his entire body has decided to mutiny all at once. His skin is clammy and constantly feels like it’s going to crawl off of his muscles, which feel tense and achy. The glands at his neck are swollen, but there’s no other symptoms of a virus. His dreams are...his dreams are  _ explicit _ , for lack of a better word, full of smooth, tanned skin and whispered promises to a faceless female. 

He doesn’t ask around or report to medical because, deep down in his gut, he knows what it is. It’s the ultimate betrayal, wrapped in the mystery of Vulcan biology. He won’t even think of it, content to simply manage his symptoms and hope beyond hope that it eventually just goes away.

Easy to say, if not for the fact that, not twenty-four hours later, he smells that same odour again. The one from the cafe, the one that triggered heart palpitations that wouldn’t calm down for hours. He looks up and spots  _ her _ , the Human Starfleet cadet, crouched in front of the Kholinar temple, pressing something up against its surface.

He feels like his body is being torn apart. The rational side of him, the side he would normally equate with his Vulcan heritage, is telling him to  _ turn away, don’t look back, this Human will only mean trouble _ , but his primitive, impulsive side is tugging him closer to her, willing his feet to keep moving until he’s only a metre away from her hunched down form, just standing awkwardly, watching. 

To her credit, it only takes her 5.98 seconds to notice him. “Oh!” she exclaims, whirling around. “Hello!”

She has a low voice for a female, tinged with an accent that indicates some familial origin from Earth’s former United Kingdom, or a similar region. It sends a frisson of pleasure down Kylo’s spine, and the primal side of him roars with approval.

“What are you doing?”

“I’m taking a rubbing.” She holds up her sheet of paper and stick of coloured wax as if they   somehow explain her strange actions. “It’s an old Earth way of replicating ancient carvings.”

He frowns. “It’s hardly an accurate replication. Why are you not using a holo-imager? What kind of studies are you hoping to ascertain from this  _ rubbing _ ?”

“I’m not going to study it.” She shrugs. “I’m just doing it for fun.”

“Fun.”

“Yes.” She pockets the paper and wax, and hoists herself up to her feet. “Fun. Something we humans do to amuse ourselves.”

“I see.” His mouth has gone dry. She’s so- so  _ beautiful  _ that his lungs ache, and his hands just won’t stop sweating. “Are you having a productive time so far on your exchange?”

“How did you-? Oh, right, the uniform. Yes, it’s been wonderful so far.” She extends her hand, marred with flakes of wax. “I’m Rey.” 

His brow furrows, and she pulls it back, embarrassed. “I mean-” Frowning, she attempts to contort her fingers into the traditional split fingered Vulcan salute, and fails miserably. “Live long and- oh hell. I’m rubbish at this.”

“Humans often lack the dexterity and hand strength required,” he explains, deadpan. “I’m not surprised that it is difficult for you.”

“Thanks, I guess.” 

“No thanks is required. I was stating a fact.”

She purses her lips together, their rosy plushness disappearing into a thin line on her face. “Right. Well, I’m just going to get back to-”

“Why are you here?"

He regrets the question as soon as he says it, chalking the impulsiveness up to his wild Human nature. She’s obviously offended by his bluntness, but hides it under her mask of Starfleet nonchalance.

“Do you mean Vulcan? Or this location specifically.”

“Both. Either.” He suppresses a wince at his sudden verbal ineptitude. “I’ve never seen a Human cadet show interest in the traditional sights themselves. Most are satisfied with holo recreations, and would prefer to study in the archives.”

“I suppose I’m not most cadets then.” She raises an eyebrow, triggering another string of heart palpitations in Kylo’s chest. 

“M-maybe you should be,” he stammers. “Maybe it would be better for you to restrict your access to Academy archives, instead of trampling through ancient sites with religious and cultural significance.”

“Are you saying that I’m disrespecting your culture by being here? By taking a rubbing?”

“I said no such thing,”

“But you implied it.”

“I implied no such thing.” He keeps talking-  _ why is he still talking?  _ It’s as if his stoic Vulcan side and his irrational Human side have teamed up to utterly humiliate him in front of this cadet. “Your persistence that I am implying such a thing must rely on a preconceived notion that you believe such a thing. Therefore, are  _ you _ not implying it?”

“What? No!” The Human female-  _ Rey _ \- lets out a small noise of frustration that inexplicably makes his stomach twist. “If I thought taking a rubbing would be disrespectful to your culture, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?”

He can’t stop himself. “Would you?”

She tilts her head to the side, eyes narrowing. “I- are you accusing me of intentionally disrespecting your culture? Of knowingly coming here under the pretense that my presence will disturb the very fabric of Vulcan traditions?” She takes a step forward and crosses her arms across her chest. “Who do you think you are? Who  _ are  _ you?”

Kylo steps back, then immediately mentally berates himself for that gesture of weakness. “Who I am is immaterial,” he sputters. 

“Apparently not, if you’re the gatekeeper of everything sacred in Vulcan culture.” She takes another step forward.

He steps back again. “I don’t claim to be a gatekeeper. Just someone invested in maintaining the purity of Vulcan culture.”

“That is  _ literally _ a gatekeeper. And purity? What kind of xenophobic nonsense is that?” She’s angry now, red hot rage making her face flush in the most attractive way possible. “Who  _ are  _ you?”

He clamps his mouth closed before even more inflammatory language spouts forth. He’s done enough here, he’s angered her enough that she’s flustered which, in turn, is flustering him even more. Without another word, he turns on his heel and stalks back down the street, away from her nauseatingly perfect scent, sparkling eyes, and blinding beauty. 

“Hey!” she calls out. “Hey, I’m not done with you yet!”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that,” Kylo mutters to himself. “And I’m not quite done with you yet either.”

*

_ Personal Log, Stardate: 70255.59 _

_ I had a very strange encounter with a Vulcan officer earlier today, who seemed upset that I was taking a wax rubbing of some ancient carvings. We argued for a while, and I was shocked at how emotional he was getting. Honestly, I haven’t met loads of Vulcans, but the ones I have met have all been cool and even-tempered, just like my textbooks said. The only exception to this so far has been Master Skywalker, whose unique opinions of the sacred texts have given him a quirky view of what it means to be a Vulcan. But this officer...this was something else.  _

“I met someone at the ruins last night.”

Luke looks up at her from his PADD. He places his mug of mint tea down on the dining table and muses, “Someone interesting enough to mention at breakfast?”

“Yeah, I suppose so.” Rey breaks off a corner of her  _ kreyla _ and spreads it thickly with syrup. “He showed up as I was taking a rubbing of T’Klass’s fifth lecture. He was  _ rude _ , and not just rude for a Vulcan.”

Luke nods. “Rude, you say? He wouldn’t happen to have been quite tall, broad, with dark hair?”

“You mean like every other Vulcan out there?” Finn laughs.

“No, not like every Vulcan.” She nibbles on her breakfast, allowing the cloying, slightly spicy syrup to linger on the tip of her tongue. “He was quite tall, taller than most, and broader than any other Vulcan male I’ve seen. And his hair was black, and longer than most. Not the typical smooth, short hair, but kind of like yours, Master Skywalker, only a bit shorter.”

Brushing his hand through said waves, Luke contorts his face into what can only be called a Vulcan-style grimace. “Ah, then I see you’ve met my nephew.”

“Your  _ nephew? _ ”

“Admiral Leia’s son?”

“Yes, Finn, Leia’s son.”

Finn’s eyes go wide, surprised. “I didn’t know she had a son. I didn’t even know she was married, or in a relationship with someone.”

“ _ Finn! _ ” Rey hisses. “Of  _ course _ we wouldn’t know that! She’s our instructor, and superior officer.”

“I don’t know, it’s just surprising.”

Luke nods in agreement. “Finn’s right. Senior Starfleet officers usually don’t have families. Too busy, too much time off world.”

“No balance,” Finn points out. “Is that one of the reasons why it didn’t work out for you?”

Eyes misting over Luke lets out a small sigh. “One of them, that’s for sure.” He turns to Rey. “Now...what are you going to do about this unpleasant encounter with my nefarious nephew?"

“I’m not sure.” She shrugs, pushing the rest of her breakfast around on her plate. “I should at least apologize, right?”

“Would you have apologized  _ before _ finding out he’s the Admiral’s son?”

Rey tries not to look guilty and fails miserably. “Maybe? Probably not. He was very rude. He implied that taking a rubbing was disrespectful to the grounds, and that I knew it was disrespectful and did it anyways.”

“Hah!” Luke delivers the guffaw with a perfectly straight face, prompting Finn to raise his eyebrows and smile, amused. “So typical of Ben.”

“Ben? Is that his name?”

“Far be it from me to be a crotchety old gossip, but try searching the Starfleet record for a ‘Ben Solo..” He leans back in his chair, and adds, “Then search the Vulcan Science Academy records for a ‘Kylo Ren.’ It’s a very enlightening experience, and a way to learn some unbiased information about your new acquaintance.”

It _seems_ like an invasion of privacy, but it’s all public record, and it might help her shake the lingering mix of anger and curiosity she’s holding against this stranger. She bids goodbye to Luke and Finn, who have decided to take a tour of the Lady T’Pring Memorial Botanical Garden, and sits herself down at the information console in Luke’s office. Taking in a deep breath, she navigates to Starfleet’s public service records and types _Ben_ _Solo_ into the search field.

The first thing she notices is that the portrait pulled up is objectively the man she encountered yesterday, but is at the same time  _ entirely _ different. His black hair is longer, curling to his shoulders, hiding his pointed ears. His face is softer, gaze less severe, and there even seems to be a hint of a smile at the edges of his full lips. The vital statistics listed indicate that he is half-Human, but there appears to be no service record for his father, only a link to Admiral Leia’s accomplishments. 

Rey scans ‘Ben Solo’s’ service record. It’s impressive, exemplary service peppered by frequent promotions that enabled Solo to achieve the rank of Commander before the age of thirty. So it’s a surprise when she reaches the end of the record and learns how his career apparently ended.

_ Court martialed for insubordination, violence, and infliction of bodily harm on a fellow officer. Solo was demoted and sentenced to a year of community service and five years of mandatory counseling.  _

_ Solo chose to resign his Starfleet commission.  _

“Infliction of bodily harm…” Rey blinks, shocked at what she’s just read. It doesn’t seem, well,  _ logical _ , that Starfleet would even entertain the idea of holding on to an officer that would willingly harm another officer. Unbidden, her mind wanders to Admiral Leia, and she wonders whether the older woman’s substantial influence may have swayed the outcome in her son’s favour. 

And after all of that, he chose instead to resign. 

She closes the record, mind swimming, and navigates to the staff profile listing for the Vulcan Science Academy. She types in ‘Kylo Ren’ and the portrait that appears is far more familiar, closer cropped wavy hair, blank expression, and a severe glint in his dark eyes. Kylo Ren is apparently quite an asset to the Academy, serving in both the astrometrics and interplanetary relations departments, much to Rey’s disbelief.  

“A racist xenophobe in working in interplanetary relations. I wonder whether Vulcans can comprehend the concept of irony.” 

In a strange twist of fate, she sees him barely a day later, stalking into a seemingly deserted back office of the Science Academy with another officer. Of course it’s not actually deserted, since she’s bent over an archive console, doing some research on the life of Ambassador Surak, and is only disturbed from her study by the flash of wavy hair she catches out of the corner of her eye. Curiosity stoked, she logs out of the archive and slowly hunches down lower behind the console, her small frame dwarfed by the massive terminal. 

Kylo’s deep voice is coloured with repressed agitation, which is apparently directed towards his colleague. Rey watches him scan the room, his eyes glossing over her hiding spot, before he continues, hissing, “But why can’t Snoke postpone his visit? At least until we have more tangible results that would require his actual oversight.”

“Ren, stop being ridiculous.” The other officer, a shorter man with slicked back hair, looks up at Kylo with raised eyebrows. “This was always part of the plan. The General prefers to keep a close eye on us, to ensure the total compliance of all of his officers. You are no exception.”

“It’s not the right time,” Kylo maintains.  

“It’s as good a time as any.” The other man  _ frowns _ , full out, unlike any Vulcan Rey has ever seen, his lip curling enough that it almost reaches his nose. “You can’t expect him to command distantly from Romulus forever, no matter how out of sorts you’re feeling.”

_ Romulus?  _ Rey chews her cheek, worry churning in her belly. Why on Earth would Vulcan officers be commanded by a Romulan General? What could they be up to? And does the Federation know about it?

“I feel as though I’ve been very explicit about the growing anti-Federation sentiment here, so much so that his presence is not necessarily warranted.” Kylo ‘s hands grip into fists. “Things are going as planned.”

“As I stated previously, the General will be visiting  _ as planned _ ,” the officer huffs, exasperated. “Additionally Ren, I cannot help but point out how increasingly erratic you have been as of late. Snoke has noticed as well.”

“So you’re saying he’s coming to check up on me specifically.”

“I cannot confirm nor deny that.”

“You cannot confirm nor deny?” Kylo’s lip twitches. “But I’ve dedicated my career to this. Why would I be motivated to sabotage the operation at this stage?”

The officer’s eyes flash with pleasure. “I never said he thought your behavior was intentional.”

The air in the room goes thin, tension strung taut between the two men. 

“ _ Fuck! _ ” 

Kylo smashes his fists down on a console, causing a hairline fracture to spiderweb down the screen. 

Rey gasps involuntarily, then stuffs her fist into her mouth. This causes both men to whirl around, eyes searching for the source of the noise, until Kylo stalks forward and peers his head over her terminal.

_ “You.” _

She’s frozen in the spot, free hand gripping the console while the other trembles against her mouth. His nostrils flare; he doesn’t seem angry, mostly just startled, and disturbed, mixed with a swirl of something she can’t quite make out. Shortly, his colleague appears next to him, his pale face twisted into a look of disgust.

“Oh, excellent. A Starfleet cadet. How fortuitous.”

“I-I was just leaving,” Rey stammers, willing her anxious body over just another metre or two so she can dart out the door. “Just leaving. I’m meeting my friend for lunch, and he’s going to wonder what’s keeping me.”

“I’m sure he is.” The officer’s mouth levels menacingly. “Why don’t you come and join us over-”

“Hux.” Kylo reaches his hand over and firmly grasps the other man’s narrow shoulder. “She’s meeting someone for lunch. We shouldn’t keep her waiting.”

“Wha-?” Hux transfers his ire to Kylo, who seems to be a veteran at managing the other man’s frustrations. “But she heard-?”

“She heard us talking. Simple as that.” He looks over at Rey. “Nothing special or out of the ordinary. Is that correct, Cadet?”

“Right.” 

She can’t make out the expression in his gaze, whether it’s fear, anger, or pity, or a strange mixture of all three. It’s not worth wasting time analyzing it; instead she just nods, wiggles out from behind the console, and takes off as fast as she can without seeming desperate. 

Oppressive heat hits her as soon as she’s out of the environmentally controlled climate of the Academy. This planet can be so aggressive sometimes, with such dry harsh winds that she’s surprised she’s not half raisin at this point.

She scans her surroundings and focuses in on a small cafe that seems crowded enough to get lost in. Grabbing a table, she pulls her scarf out of her purse and wraps it around her face under the pretense of hiding from the heat, then orders the lunch special from the next waitstaff that passes by.

It was a good idea, but unfortunately all for nothing as, all too soon, she hears a familiar deep voice ring out over the rumblings of customers.

“Cadet.”

Rey ducks her head down in the sea of people at the cafe, and attempts to take a nonchalant sip of her plomeek soup. Unfortunately, Kylo Ren has already honed in on her specific table and is walking over at a pace that’s a bit too brisk to be casual. “Cadet.”

“Please,” she hisses once he’s in earshot for appropriate conversation. “If you’re going to follow me around, at least call me Rey.”

“Rey.” He pauses. “You didn’t specify earlier...is that your family name?”

“It’s the only name I’ve ever had. Whether it came from my family or not is beyond me.” She takes in his blank expression and sighs. “My ‘family’ name is Johnson, whatever it’s worth. I’m an orphan with a murky background, so the Federation assigned me the most common Human last name in my colony.”

“I see. You do not prefer to be called Cadet Johnson?”

“No. You’re not an officer, so if you must talk to me, I prefer to be called Rey."

“Rey. I-I’m happy to encounter you here. I was concerned that you may have overheard some confidential information this morning whose nature may be easily misconstrued.”

“Not at all.” She takes another sip of soup. “I believe the nature of what I overheard was pretty explicit. Don’t you agree?”

“I do not.” Unbidden, he pulls out the chair across from her and takes a seat. 

She frowns. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Having lunch?” He tilts his head. “Oh, my apologies. I forgot that you’re meeting someone for your meal.” He makes a show of assessing her half-finished bowl of soup. “Though it looks like they’re not going to make it.”

Rolling her eyes dramatically, she takes another sip of soup. “Fine, you caught me. I didn’t want to be stuck in an uncomfortable eavesdropping situation with two men who seemed a bit too bloodthirsty at the moment, so I made something up. Though a fair warning, I  _ am  _ staying with two housemates at the moment who will get worried if I don’t show up tonight.”

“Just in case I, what, try to murder you?”

She takes a sip of water, deliberately not making eye contact. His face hardens.

“What have you heard about me? Who told you? Luke?” He shakes his head. “Luke is a liar.”

“No one told me anything.” Rey slams her glass against the table a bit too fimly, eliciting some curious looks from other customers. “I  _ read _ all of it. On your file. Or should I say  _ files.” _

“Ah.” He calms, shoulders relaxing. “So now you know my story.”

“So that’s it then? You threw a tantrum? It said you hurt a fellow officer. Why would you do something like that?”

“Did it say why I hurt that officer?”

“No. Why does it matter?”

“What if I told you that officer was Luke Skywalker? Would  _ that _ make a difference?”

Rey steps back, eyes wide. “B-but he’s your uncle.”

“Yes.” Kylo ‘s eyes glitter. “And I smashed my fist into his face just the same. What does that say about me?”

“It says that you’re a monster.” She blurts it out before she can stop herself.

He seems pleased by her answer. “Yes, yes I am. A monster, an abomination. The result of two illogical, overzealous, emotion struck humanoids taking natural science into their own hands. And look at what they made.” He holds his hands out in front of him, noticeably large and calloused. “An overgrown freak with the strength of a Vulcan and the emotions of a Human. A toxic combination.”

She sits silent for a moment, letting his words marinate into her. Absentmindedly, she swirls her spoon around her now lukewarm soup and watches the way it kicks up clouds of particulate from its murky depths. “Is that why you want to destroy the Federation?”

He recoils at her bluntness, and his stoic facade slips, just a little. “W-what?”

“Well, I just assumed that’s what you were talking about earlier. What I overheard.” She continues to stir, keeping her eyes from meeting his face. “You don’t think it’s right for Humans and Vulcans to mix. You’ve said as much before. But still-” She looks up at him now, eyes beseeching. “Why would you want to do such a thing? Don’t you realise that, for some people, the Federation is all they have?”

“Some people? You mean you?” He closes his eyes and takes in a few breaths, obviously getting ahead of himself. “Try branching out. It may do you some good.”

Tears prickle at the corners of her eyes and she swipes at them, frustrated. “Easy for someone like  _ you  _ to say. Your mother is Vulcan. Your father is Human. You have  _ two  _ homes, plus you used to be a Starfleet officer, and you’re still so angry. Why?”

“You talk like Earth and Vulcan are two separate ecosystems, but that’s not true. Vulcan has been tainted by the Federation ever since the alliance’s inception. Humans destroy everything they touch, make it irrational and unpredictable.”

“Like you.” Realization dawns on her face. “Your Human side makes you more emotional, but you can’t embrace it because of your Vulcan side. You’ve chosen now to live as a Vulcan, but you  _ can’t _ . Your biology won’t let you forget that you’re of both worlds.” She stares at him with watery eyes. “That-that sounds difficult.”

His mouth drops open, and he clenches his beverage tight in his shaking hands. “I don’t need your pity.”

“I don’t pity you. I-I think I’m just starting to understand a bit why you seem so angry.”

Shoulders squaring, he sits up a bit straighter as if preparing to make a point or burst off in a rage, but that impulse passes almost as soon as it appeared.  Instead he just deflates, slumping down and sulking, looking over at her through lowered eyes. “It’s complicated. I can’t expect you to understand my situation, so don’t pride yourself in believing you do.”

“I don’t understand everything about you. I don’t claim to. But I do understand what it means to feel alone and abandoned and to feel like you don’t belong.” 

She takes in a deep breath and lets out a slow exhale from between her teeth. He flinches.

“I had the misfortune of growing up on Earth. The other children, they would call me-”

“No.” She shakes her head. “You don’t have to repeat their poison. That’s how they win.”

Acting on impulse, she reaches across the table and grasps his larger hand in hers. She’s about to say something inspirational, something about how ‘the Federation will always be there for him’ or another equally pithy aphorism, but she’s interrupted by a jolt of electricity that seems to flow from his arm up into her body. Eyes wide, she pulls her hand back and jumps to her feel, heart pounding. “W-what was that?”

“I don’t know.” He stands up too, hand held in front of his massive body in a sign of surrender. “Please don’t leave.”

“I should go though. Finn and Luke-”

He  _ growls _ , low and throaty, like a wild animal, then instantly flushes a muddy green. “I-I apologize,” he stammers. “I don’t know what-”

“I’m leaving. I’ve been too long as it is.” She gathers her scarf tighter around her face. “Thank you though...for before, with your friend.”

Kylo bristles again. “He’s not my friend.” Another deep breath, another moment to calm himself, then he pleads. “May I please see you again?”  
  
“Do I have a choice?” She means it as a bit of a joke, meant to poke fun at the fact that she seems to be constantly running into him, but it’s obvious from a poorly concealed hurt on his face that he doesn’t take it as such. “I mean, sure. I’ll contact you, we can chat some more.”

Head spinning, she scurries out of the cafe without giving him another look, her mind full of the enigma that is Kylo Ren.

*

Kylo walks for at least a kilometre, trudging down the street until he finally clears Rey’s scent from his nose.  Flowers, soap, a heady warmth, it sticks to his clothing and his skin like the finest cologne, tempting him with everything he can’t have. He takes in a couple of deep breaths of dry Vulcan air, his eyes scanning the horizon for anything to distract himself from the emotions rolling beneath his skin, a mixture of anger and disappointing frustration.

The stark, sandy ranges of the planet stare back at him, blank and unforgiving. Vulcan is unrepentant in its brutality; it’s why he likes it here so much. Just like him, the planet is a strange dichotomy of harshness and harmony, of looming oppression and quiet compromise. 

He stops at a small temple located at the edge of the city core. It’s a modest amphitheatre, surrounded by stone arches, and outfitted with utilitarian cushions meant to facilitate meditation. Choosing the one farthest from the entrance, he folds his large body into a meditative stance, closes his eyes, and attempts to let his mind clear.

Even though his mentors have assured him it’s not the case, he’s always been convinced that meditation comes harder to him because of his Human side. Admiral Tuvok, one of his mother’s associates, used to maintain that  _ “despite their inferior brain structure, humans are just as capable of reaching and sustaining a meditative state. Focus, Ben. Focus, and allow your entire being to fall into alignment.” _

_ Ben. _ It’s been so long since he’s gone by that name. Six years ago now, almost to the day, since the most transformative time of his life, the time he decided to take his destiny into his own hands. 

_ Counseling. Community service. Demotion. _

It’s a miracle he wasn’t stripped of rank and jailed. He knew it was a miracle, but it still hurt. Just like the pain of his knuckles colliding with his uncle’s nose, or facing his mother for the first time since the incident, having to confess that he lost his temper. And that’s what broke the fragile barrier he’d spent years trying to build up, the one that held back the primal tide of tumultuous Human emotions and ancient Vulcan brutality.

He had found himself seated in front of Admiral Tekka after the hearing was complete. Lor San had been a friend of the family for as long as Ben could remember, though not close enough that his presence on the panel would have been deemed a conflict of interest. No, Lor San was first and foremost an officer, a true believer in the righteous gospel of Starfleet and the Federation.

“You are an asset, Ben, an amazing asset. We all know this.”

“So you’re saying I’m too useful to waste rotting in a cell on Rura Penthe?” Ben hadn’t felt any better from this statement. If anything, he had felt worse off than before. Instead of a fluke of logic or nepotism, he was being kept around as a  _ tool _ . 

Lor San gave him a small smile. “You say that like it’s a bad thing, Ben, like a life of meaning and purpose is somehow below you.”

“That’s not it at all.” Ben was tempted to snort with frustration, but his previous outburst made any new expression of emotion far too raw to risk. “I just want to be considered as a person, not a composite of different parts, formed into an  _ asset.” _

“You misquote me, but no mind. You are a composite, and the better for it. Deep down, you cannot deny the truth that is your family,” Lor San said in his strange, wheezing voice. “And aside from that, the legacy of your existence. Elizabeth Tucker, Spock...now you.”

“I was made in a lab somewhere,” Ben had spluttered bitterly. “It hardly makes me special.”

“It makes you extraordinary, Ben. Your parents wanted you so much, they asked for help to create you.”

“They have a funny way of showing it.”

“Your mother is a decorated Starfleet officer. And your father-”

“My father has been messed up in the Orion Syndicate since before I was born.”

“Well, I wasn’t going to put it that way.”

“But that’s the  _ truth, _ isn’t it?”

Lor San sighed. “He tried, but it’s easier said than done. Ultimately-”

“Ultimately he didn’t want to leave the syndicate. Ultimately he left us to go fly his ship around the galaxy and prey on unwary civilizations, as usual.”

Lor San had enough dignity to bow his head slightly, which only urged Ben more.

“It’s okay, you can say it. He thought Mother would be enough, he thought  _ I  _ would be enough, but I wasn’t.”

“Ben-”

“Don’t  _ Ben _ me! Don’t call me that name, pretending that I can pass as a Starfleet officer, as something halfway  _ human _ . I’m a creature, a  _ monster _ . I don’t deserve that courtesy.”

He had resigned his commission the next day, blood still pounding in his ears. By sheer coincidence, his uncle decided to resign as well, citing a need to retire and study Surak’s teachings, whatever that meant. Kylo always assumed it was guilt that drove him to it, guilt over goading his nephew to violence just to make some sort of stupid point.

_ “You’re a ticking time bomb, Ben. Everyone can see it. You need to take control of yourself before you hurt somebody.” _

_ “Ben, what was I saying before? You keep letting yourself be overwhelmed by your Human side. It will get you into trouble one day.” _

Kylo gasps, jolted out of his meditative trance by the echoes of his uncle’s words. Wincing, he unfolds his stiff joints as he rises from the temple floor.

His sleep that night is plagued with dreams of lust and violence, replaying the scene of him punching Luke over and over and over again until it reaches comedic levels of ridiculous before it switches to his standard fantasies of romancing the faceless woman. Except she’s no longer faceless, she’s  _ Rey _ , her tanned skin now sprinkled with freckles and her dark eyes and hair now lighter and full of life. She’s wrapped around his body like a glove, somehow touching and quenching every single trembling molecule of himself the same time.  _ Come to me, Ben, _ she murmurs against the pointed tips of his ears. 

_ Come for me, Ben. _

He jolts awake, his moan strangled into his pillow. Mercifully, he hasn’t soiled his bedclothes, but he has to struggle with a painful erection for most of his morning, which is capped off with a long and boring conference call with both Hux and General Snoke. 

Hux is eager to leave at the end of the meeting, leaving Kylo to face Snoke’s grizzled face on the viewscreen. The feed is being transmitted through fifteen layers of encryption, garbling the General’s voice until it’s a wobbling parody of its usual grandeur.

_ “You seem distracted. Are you ill?” _

“No sir, I-”

_ “Have you been to medical?” _

Kylo grits his teeth, a wave of annoyance washing over him. “No sir, I haven’t, but I-”

_ “Report to medical immediately. That’s an order. I can’t have you compromised for the entirety of my visit.” _

“About that, sir.” Kylo tries to make firm eye contact with his commanding officer, but it’s hard to focus through all the interference. “Would it be possible for you to delay your visit?”

_ “For what reason? Both you and Hux have assured me that the plan is progressing as normal.” _

“It is, it’s just-”  _ I’m not progressing as normal? _ Kylo resists the urge to fidget, and resumes his focus on the blurry spectre in front of him. “There are factors beyond our control that may compromise the-”

_ “Get to medical at once, Kylo Ren, that’s an order!”  _ Even through the static, Kylo can make out the spittle flying from Snoke’s mouth.  _ “And I’ll see you soon.” _

The feed terminates abruptly. Kylo exhales a shaky breath, his fingertips digging into the glossy table top, brain swimming with anxiety he can’t seem to suppress.

*

“Sir. From your elevated core body temperature and increased hormone levels, as well as your age, it is clear that you are entering into your first  _ pon farr _ .”

“My w-what?” He knows what it is, of course. It had been explained to him numerous times, most memorably by his uncle Luke, who described it as a ‘blood fever’ all mature Vulcans experienced every seven years. It’s just hearing it now after days of denial, in the stark white hall of the medical wing, somehow makes it much more intimidating.

“Your pon farr, sir.” The young medical assistant’s eye twitches at the prospect of having to explain something so basic to an officer. “It’s the mating cycle? Your body’s biological drive to mate every seven ye-”

“I know what it is!” Kylo growls, fingers clenching into the fabric of the examination bed. “But why now?” 

“Onset of pon farr in mixed species individuals is more challenging to determine. Some individuals experience it at a typical time, some a bit later and, depending on the other genetic make up, some individuals do not experience it at all.”

Now that the assistant has brought it up, Kylo’s denial washes away, and he can clearly differentiate all of the signs as clearly as if he’s reading them off of a PADD: the irrationality, increased temperature, irritability. His mind wanders to Rey, and his illogical fascination with her, the way she smells, the glint of mischief in her eyes, the way her modest Starfleet uniform hints at a small, toned waist that he could easily span with his hands-

“H-how much time do I have?” he stammers as he rubs his suddenly sweaty hands against the bed. “Is it too late to start meditating?” 

“According to our charts, you have approximately 72 hours until  _ plak tow _ . Meditation may help to hold it off for a day or two, but at this point you cannot meditate through your pon farr.” The assistant looks up at him, face neutral. “You do not have a mate?”

Kylo clenches his jaw. “No.”

“I see.” The other man taps something against his PADD then flicks his finger against the surface in Kylo’s direction. Kylo feels the corresponding buzz of his own device vibrating in his pocket, indicating the receipt of data. “I have forwarded you the contact information for several services that specialize in your situation. They offer both organic and holographic options, however considering this is your first pon farr, the holographic option may not sate you at this point.”

Kylo’s stomach turns, either from hormones or at the prospect of spending his first pon farr with a stranger. He nods a thank you to the assistant, then stalks out of the office, body shaking with frustration.

Only once he’s back in the privacy of his quarters does he allow himself the indulgence of looking at the medical assistant’s information. These... _ brothels _ seem respectable, catering to the unmated, whether by choice or circumstance. Vulcans lack the prudishness of other species; these places provide a service to satisfy a basic biological function, and the lack of emotional attachments ensures that everything is kept professional. The women offered seem pleasant enough, all smooth skinned and dark haired, with eyes the colour of caramel, but he still finds his mind wandering to freckles and wind blown strands curled around cheeks flushed pink with a smile. 

_ Rey. _ He wants Rey. That primal part of his brain, inherited from his ancestors before him, has determined that she will be the one to sate his need, to combat the blood lust bubbling in his veins. It must be the strange mix of Human and Vulcan biology within him that has focused in on a young Human female as his mate, since it makes no logical sense. Humans and Vulcans cannot telepathically bond, and they cannot naturally conceive offspring, yet all he can think about is Rey, pliant and nude underneath him, Rey groaning with pleasure against his body, Rey’s belly rounded with their child-

_ Enough.  _ Ironically, it’s his Human side that’s had enough of the fantasizing, that cloying Earth sentimentality rearing up to tame the Vulcan beast within. 

*   
_ Personal Log, Stardate: 70255.61 _

_ It’s so embarrassing, but lately all I can think about is Kylo Ren. Or Ben Solo, whatever he chooses to be called right now. He’s focused on manipulating Vulcan into leaving the Federation, but at the same time I can’t seem to stay angry at him. He’s lost...lost and confused, and obviously going through quite a lot. I have to tell Luke and Finn what I overheard, but I hope that there can be some way to pull Kylo out of this mess too.   _

“If we report it, this Snoke person may try to hurt your nephew. He seems like the type.”

Rey leans over, resting her elbows on her thighs as she faces Luke and Finn in the comfort of Luke’s living room. She’s tried to explain everything she’s heard which, coupled with her revealing conversation with Kylo, has been enough to convince her that this isn’t just a couple of shady officers discussing mutinous wet dreams in the corridor of the Vulcan Academy. 

“Ah, yes. I’ve heard of General Snoke, as well as whispers of a faction of Romulans bent on divorcing Vulcan from the Federation. Divide and conquer, and all that.” Luke’s bright eyes quiver with unexpressed emotion. “Romulans can be quite erratic and violent. They embrace the primality of our shared past instead of moving beyond it. We cannot put Kylo in a compromised position, no matter how involved he is in this scheming. There must be another way.”

“Could we hack into their network?” Finn wonders. “Steal their plans and upload them to the Federation database?” He turns to Rey. “You said you think they’re based out of the Academy, but just hiding their data behind heavy encryption?”

“Yeah.” She passes a PADD over to the two men. “I’ve found evidence of massive data usage in encrypted formats on the Science Academy server. It’s under a level 7 security passcode, which is how it’s remained unquestioned for so long.”

“Level 7?” Luke’s brow furrows. “I’ve only heard rumours of level 7 access for Section 31 officers. That is, if they even exist.”

“Oh come on, Luke,” Finn groans. “We’re beyond the point where the Federation can deny the existence of a secret spy network. But how are we going to transfer this secret spy data off of Vulcan without being detected? Is it even possible?” 

Rey nods. “It is possible, however we would need a way to establish an interplanetary uplink outside of the Federation network, to avoid any risk of detection.”

“Rose.”

Luke turns to Finn, and tilts his head, curious. “What’s ‘rose’?”

“Rose Tico. She’s a cadet working on a mechanical internship on Lunar One. She has access to their communications array.” Finn shrugs, casually, while unsuccessfully hiding a sheepish grin “We exchanged hexacrypt transponder codes before I left, so that we would have a way to communicate without a risk of surveillance.”

“Why would two cadets need hack proof communication devices? What sort of top secret information could you possibly be-” Luke takes in Finn’s coy expression, and rolls his eyes. “Oh. Of course.”

“So if I can access the files at the Academy, I should be able to transmit them to Rose, who can patch them through to Starfleet Command without being intercepted. The only question is, how are we going to access the files on site?” He turns to Rey. “You said you could find evidence of the data, but you weren’t actually able to access it?”

“No, I didn’t have the proper code.” She leans back into the leather sofa and thinks. There is an option, but it’s risky and fragile, and may compromise this strange, tenuous exploration of an understanding she feels blossoming between them. “But I can get you in. Kylo and I have spoken several times, and he’s been open to showing me what he does at the Academy. If I mirror his access code, both of you could sneak into their headquarters while he’s on site, access the files, and avoid detection.”

Luke’s eyes narrow. “Are you sure about this, Rey? You would have to keep him busy for some time. The interplanetary uplink process can take quite a while.”

“I can do it.” She offers no other details, just staunch determination. “I’ll contact him and ask him to meet late tomorrow afternoon, if we’ll be ready by then.”

“That’s my girl!” Finn leaps up from the sofa and throws his arms around her. “We’re going to save the Federation by foiling a plan hatched up by rogue Romulans hidden undercover at the Science Academy! And just think, you thought that a placement on Vulcan would be  _ boring _ !”

*

As she learned previously from her times scavenging around Kerecindal, the key to accessing secure locations is to simply look like someone who belongs. So when Kylo Ren doesn’t respond to any of her hails, Rey decides to face the Academy head on, and simply waltzes inside, uniform freshly pressed, a look of determination plastered on her face.

Whether it’s a strict adherence to decorum or just disinterest that keeps them from confronting her, she’s not quite sure. All she knows is that she’s able to get dangerously far down the corridors of the Science Academy, past general access and into the area set aside for research and intel. She’s about to zero in on some random suspicious looking Vulcan, just to see if they have access to the encrypted Romulan data, when she feels something deep in her belly, something  _ warm _ and  _ magnetic. _

Intrigued, she follows the urge down a set of lesser used corridors that are dimly lit and smell of dust and ozone. She can hear muffled discussions further down the hall, but her gut is telling her to enter the room to her left, the one that appears to be some sort of overgrown storage closet.

The door opens on a dark room. It’s not really a closet,  _ per se _ , more of a supply room judging by the amount of access hatches on the wall, and the basic computer console jutting out of the middle, over which is hunched a very pained looking Kylo Ren.

“You need to leave.”

She recoils at the sound of his voice, dark and harsh and without any of the neutral modulation she’s come to expect. He’s lurking in the shadows, his skin glinting with a thin layer of perspiration, and he’s breathing heavily, shoulders straining against the heavy fabric of his uniform. Instantly, she thinks of drugs, or poison, or some other toxin that may have eroded his mental barriers. 

Before she has a chance to lose herself in whatever is troubling him, she reaches into her pocket and activates the code transmitter. It lets out a small vibration, indicating that it’s paired with Kylo’s access pass hidden somewhere on his person. Content that she’s completed the first half of her task, she pulls her hand out of her pocket and continues on to the second. “Why do you want me to leave? I thought you were the one who wanted to meet again?”

“I’ve changed my mind. Now is not a good time.”

“Not a good time? What do you mean?” She takes in his quivering hands and the sheen of his brow. “Kylo, are you okay? You seem unwell.”

“Apparently I am  _ quite _ well, thank you.

Her mind flips through every ailment she can think of that might affect a Vulcan, then blurts out the first that correlates. “Are you experiencing pon farr?”

As usual, she realizes a moment too late that the question she’s asked is equivalent to interrogating a teenaged human female on whether or not she has started menstruating, or whether a young male has sprouted pubic hair. 

Kylo’s eyes flash with repressed anger, and he marches over to her, body shaking. “Get.  _ Out _ ,” he spits, breath hot on her forehead. 

He plants his hand on the small of her back in an effort to ease her out of the room and she immediately feels a shock, like a jolt of electricity, travel from his blazing fingers up her spine, setting the hairs at the back of her neck on edge. It’s different, more intense than the previous time at the restaurant. It’s not painful; if anything it’s strangely  _ erotic _ how her body responds immediately to his touch, and she can’t help but writhe a little at the sensation.

He pulls his hand back, cheeks flushing even darker. “I-I apologize, I didn’t mean to-”

“Kylo.” Her voice is a whisper against his lips. “Can I help at all? With this?”

She can see his pupils dilate at the sound of her voice, deep brown reflecting black in the dim light. “What are you saying?”

She swallows. “Can I take you to the medical wing, or-?”

He grunts and turns away, his face twisting into an expression of hurt. “No. I’ve been already. They have nothing else to offer me.”

“T-then what do you need?” Her gut squeezes; she  _ knows _ what he needs. She knows because it’s not a secret, no matter how much Vulcan society likes to hide this part of their biology. She’s seen the anatomy texts and she’s done her own embarrassing research, she  _ knows  _ he needs to mate, or else he’ll burn up from the fever running through his bloodstream. 

She feels a flush of warmth, like a real shower, not a sonic one, wash over her entire body before pooling between her legs.  _ It’s fine _ , she assures herself.  _ It’s a perfectly natural response to a perfectly natural biological situation. _

Yes. This current situation, where she’s in a small, dark room with a Vulcan man who literally has to have sex or else he will die _. _ This perfectly normal, everyday situation.

He’s hunched over a console now, his gaze equally imploring and _hungry_. “Rey, you need to leave,” he groans. “I-I don’t know how much longer I can...control myself.”

The needy depth in his voice sends another jolt of warmth through her body. He wants _ ,  _ no  _ needs  _ her. It’s not just that he wants to mate. She can see it in his eyes, in the way they roam over her body, and the way he’s inhaling deep lungfuls of air like he’s feasting on the scents around him. He need to mate with  _ her. _

She takes a step forward, and he bristles like a caged animal. She takes another, then another, until she’s right in front of him. “Kylo,” she breathes. “ _ Let me help you _ .”

“N-no.” He’s panicked now, hunching even further away from her close proximity. “You don’t know what you’re saying, you don’t know what this means, you don’t-”

Then she reaches up and cups his fevered face in her hand, and his entire world stops shaking. Rey can feel his body relax under her touch, the ache within him shuddering at the promise of being soothed. She lets her fingers fall, trailing over his cheek, against his neck until she reaches the front of his uniform. He’s broader than most Vulcans, due to his mixed heritage, and she savours how small her hand looks against his chest.

He takes a few calming breaths, then says, “This, all of  _ this,  _ might be...different than you’re used to.”

She looks down, embarrassed. “I’m not really  _ used  _ to anything, to be honest. I mean, I know the mechanics of course, but I’ve never-” Biting her lip, she looks up at him sheepishly. “Have you? Been with a Human before?”

His lips are parted, panting, but he’s silent for a few seconds to collect his thoughts. “No,” he finally admits. “Not a Human, not anyone. I never- never felt free enough to allow myself that intimacy with someone.”

Her stomach clenches at his admission. “Thank you for trusting me,” she whispers. 

The irony of praising his trust while also betraying him is not lost on her, but she tamps it down in the moment, choosing to ignore the tiny transmitter hidden in her pocket. This here, with him, is real. 

“I’m not-not sure how I’ll react,” he chokes out. “Even now, it’s hard to stay in control. I just  _ feel _ so much.”

“But that’s a good thing,” she whispers, running her finger tips down his flushed cheek. “It’s important to let go every once in a while.”

“But when I let go, people get hurt.” He grasps her hand away from his face and presses an open mouthed kiss to her knuckles. “And I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t hurt me.”

He looks up at her, desperate brown eyes meeting her own. His fingers flex at his side, then he brushes past her, walks over to the door panel, and punches in a long authorization code. “So no one can interrupt,” he explains, cheeks colouring. 

Rey just stands, frozen in place, as he paces restlessly around the small room, fidgeting all the while. Finally, he seems to make up his mind regarding whatever debate he’s having in his head, and opens up an access panel on the wall, revealing a stack of standard issue wool emergency blankets, which he spreads out on the floor in a bit of a makeshift nest. He takes in a deep breath, then looks over at her with a beseeching gaze. 

“Just in case you want to- I mean-”

She nods. “Thank you.” Her hands are so sweaty she has to wipe them off on her uniform pants. “So, what do we do next?”

“I-I don’t really know, actually.”

He looks so vulnerable, scared even, like any mention of their differences will spook her and cause her to abandon him. Eyes wide, she walks over to him and runs trembling fingers across his flushed cheek.

“It’s okay. Just do what feels right. I won’t let you hurt me.”

He takes in a deep gulp of air and nods, reassured. “W-well,” he stammers, raising his hand in front of her. “I think it goes something like this.”

He extends his index and middle fingers up, and gestures for her to do the same. Rey complies, blushing; she remembers a tipsy night when she looked up ‘alien erogenous zones’ at 0300 hours, and learned that Vulcan fingertips are apparently very sensitive, and somehow linked to their minor telepathic abilities. Armed with this knowledge, she reaches over and softly strokes the tips of his fingers with her own.

Letting out a gasp, Kylo returns the gesture, running his two fingers down the length of hers, touch whisper-light. Once he reaches her palm he doubles back, rubbing his calloused fingertips up her hypersensitive skin then sweetly caressing back over her knuckles. 

It should feel weird, but instead it feels like he’s touching her somewhere a lot more intimate than her fingers. All of her nerves seem congregated on that tiny patch of skin, his touch sending tiny electric shocks through her fingers that shoot straight to her spine. It’s not just the action either;it’s the way he’s focusing so intently on those two digits, as if the entire balance of the galaxy rests on the way their fingers connect in this dimly lit storage space. 

“How does it feel?” she breathes. “Is this...good?”

He rolls his full bottom lip in between his teeth until it’s tinged a muted green. “Yes. Very,” he manages to murmur out. “I feel so much, and this makes it easier to-to channel those feelings.”

“To ease into them.” She nods. “That makes sense.”

“I apologize if this is not-”

She stops his wandering fingers with her own, and clasps his hand tightly to her chest. “This is perfect,” she maintains. “I trust you. Please, just-”

Her words are swallowed up into a gasp as he surges forward and presses his lips against hers. He’s surprisingly gentle while still insistent; she can feel how he’s trembling with the effort of holding himself back.

The kiss itself is  _ perfect, _ from the soft caress of his lips to the way the scent of sand, spice, and copper envelops her as he wraps a strong arm around her waist and pulls her close. She’s been kissed before, mostly by fellow cadets buzzed on synthehol, but it was nothing like this. Where her previous encounters had been perfunctory, this kiss carries with it a depth and a longing she can feel surging through his veins. 

“How long have you wanted this?” she breathes against his lips, grasping at his shoulders with her shaking fingers. 

“Since I first saw you, before I even spoke to you. When you first explored the temple with Luke,” he admits. “Your face, your hair, your scent...when I saw you, it awakened something inside of me, something I haven’t been able to tame since.” He nuzzles at the nape of her neck, breathing her in with open mouthed gasps. “You’re intoxicating, mesmerizing, so unlike anyone or anything I’ve encountered before.”

Touching his bare skin sends another jolt of desire through Rey’s system, so strong she can’t help but wonder whether it’s originated with her or with him. At this point it doesn’t even matter; she so surrounded by him, by his strong arms and pulsing hot breaths that she can barely determine where he stops and she begins. 

Running her hands against his sides, she feels out the hidden zipper of his uniform and deftly pulls it down, revealing a thin tank top beneath. She groans, frustrated. “Damn uniforms, so many damn layers-”

“Do you require assistance?” He pulls away from her, eyes dark with lust, and shrugs out of his heavy overcoat, tossing it onto the pile of blankets behind him. His boots he kicks off into a dark corner somewhere, forgotten as he peels off his undershirt and yanks off his trousers. It seems impossible, but he’s even more imposing out of his uniform. His muscles are toned from years of service, but he’s also _so_ broad that he looks like he would be able to throw her over his shoulder without any effort at all.

“You look-” She gestures, words forgotten, at his almost naked form.

He shrinks back, somehow seeming smaller in an instant. “Am I not-?”

“N-no, it’s not that at all!” she sputters. “You look amazing, you’re very attractive, it’s just- your 

body is so, so  _ familiar?” _

He relaxes, the hint of a smirk in his features. “Oh. You were expecting scales? Or additional appendages?’

She laughs, and the tension in the room lessons for a moment. “No, nothing like that. I mean, I’ve always been curious, I know we’re not completely identical. I just didn’t expect you to look so-” Her voice trails off. There’s nothing more she could say that would make this conversation any better. It’s just that when she looks at him, she sees a  _ man _ . Aside from the sallow flush of his skin and the delicate points of his ears, he looks perfectly human. 

Taking in a deep breath, she unzips her own tunic, tossing it on to the pile. Her boots are discarded along with his, and her trousers fall limply onto the floor, leaving her in Starfleet issued skivvies, which are quite possibly the least sexiest undergarments in the galaxy. 

“If I had known, I would have worn something different,” she admits, fingering the loose grey cotton pooling around her waist. 

“No matter.” Kylo moves forward and surrounds her once again. His curious fingers tug at her undergarments, pulling at her tank until he has enough in his grasp to peel the garment up over her body, where it joins the others on the floor. Panting, his hungry eyes scan her exposed skin, mapping every scar and freckle littered across her shoulders, neck, and down her chest. Tentatively, he brushes his large hand against her soft breast, and is rewarded with a small whimper that escapes her lips. 

“Yes,” she whispers. “ _ Please.” _

He’s happy to oblige, and grasps her pliant body against him as he runs a line of kisses down her flushed neck. In the low lighting, he can just make out the gorgeous contrast of olive Vulcan skin against rosy Human, and it makes something spark deep within him, something rebellious and satisfying _. _ Encouraged by her groans and the way her fingers have woven themselves into his hair, he kisses further down her chest, circing her pert nipplie with his tongue before enveloping it with his hot, waiting lips. 

She moans, deep and throaty, nails scratching trails of fire against his scalp. He ventures down further, laving the underside of her breasts, her abdomen, her navel with his curious tongue, his hands roaming over the backs of her thighs. Kneeling down on their nest of clothing and blankets, he rubs his nose against the soft fabric of her Starfleet-issued briefs, and nearly faints with excitement when he feels the wetness pooled at her core.

“May I-?” he pants into the inside of her thigh.

“Y-yes,  _ please _ .” With fumbling fingers, Rey scrabbles at the edge of her waistband and tugs the briefs down.

The full scent of her arousal hits his nose, and Kylo is  _ lost _ . He dives forward, steadying her from behind as his lips and tongue explore the folds of her pussy. He can feel the beast inside of him stretch out and unfurl, finally free of the bounds of logic and restraint.  _ This _ is what he was made for, and  _ this  _ is what he lives for, this perfect cacophony of scent and flavour and the sound of Rey panting in pleasure above him. His dick is aching in his briefs, but he can’t lose focus now, not when he can feel her desire under his mouth, not when she’s begging for more, more _ , more. _

Rey has completely abandoned all decorum, her hands tugging at his hair, urging him forward as she feels her pleasure build in the pit of her belly. The physical sensation is perfect, but it’s heightened by something else, some thrumming, psychic bond between the two of them that sprang up the moment her fingertips touched his. She can’t read his mind, but she can catch glimpses of feelings, sensations, and the immense relief that courses through his veins as he devours her. He wants this, and it’s that pounding, throbbing, visceral want that sends her hurtling over the edge of her climax as she lets out a choked sob in the darkness.

Kylo gasps against her thigh, his trembling hands struggling to pull down his briefs. Succeeding, he kicks them to the side and stands before her, bare as the day he was born. 

She stares down, brazenly, at the jutting erection standing proud between his legs, and lets out a sigh. It’s familiar, but different, smooth and thick but tinged green instead of the typical Human pink. “You look  _ amazing _ ,” she breathes, moving to lower herself to her knees, but he stops her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Can we just-?” He’s panting, wild-eyed. “Not that I don’t want to, I just-”

A wave of pure animalistic want pulses from his mind to hers, causing her knees to buckle from its intensity. “Of course. How do you-?”

He presses forward, kissing her again, his mouth tinged with her fluids. Enveloping her in his arms, he maneuvers them both until they’re lying down on the floor, cushioned by the pile of blankets and clothing collected there. Pulling back, he gazes at her with a look of pure, unadulterated adoration, as if she personally hung every star in the sky. 

“Are you ready?” she whispers against his cheek.

He nods. Reaching down, she grasps his cock with shaking fingers, causing him to drop his head and let out a muffled groan into her shoulder. She rubs his tip against her soft folds, collecting the moisture there, then guides him to her centre. She grasps his ass with her moisture slicked fingers and urges him forward, all while the echo of his pleasure sets off corresponding sparks in her veins. 

It’s hot and wet and tight, but the thing that strikes them both is how incredibly close they are, how unified and joined they’ve become. He moves against her, dragging his lips across her neck as her fingertips trail feather light caresses against the sensitive tips of his pointed ears. He doesn’t last long, barely a half dozen thrusts, but it hardly matters when she can feel the way his entire bloodstream ignites in a final rush of lust and madness before cresting and ebbing, like a wave crashing against the shore. 

“Rey. Rey, Rey, Rey,” he chants against her skin, dragging her down in a foggy cloud of satisfaction, fatigue, and happiness.

*

They doze for a few minutes, both so dopey and sated that they can’t muster the effort to peel themselves off of the floor. Kylo wakes first, groggy, but his mind is surprisingly the clearest it’s been since over a week ago. The blood fever must be satisfied, his ancient Vulcan biology tamed by the small Human woman cradled in his arms. 

He looks up a the modest viewport across from his location. It’s just large enough to make out the highest peak of Mount Seleya, silhouetted against the setting sun. He feels his muscles, brain, even skin relax at the sight. It’s comforting to see the sun set only to rise again tomorrow morning, a welcome reminder of the cycle of life on this planet and the cycle that rests within himself.

Rey stirs against his chest, grumbling about something in her sleep. His face softens as he takes in her pink cheeks, soft lips, and light brown tangles of hair. Her body feels so right against him, even though he knows that their activities tonight have not resulted in successful conception, and would never result in successful conception. Though the edges of irrationality seem to have been tamed, he can still feel a wild, illogical urge inside of himself to hold her tight and never let her go, biology be damned.

I _s this what my parents felt?_ he wonders as he buries his nose into her hair. _Is this_ _love?_ That amorphous, Human emotion that caused his mother to abandon her principles for a dangerous, Human pirate with a dark past and a crooked smile? He can’t just blame it on his hormones anymore; there’s something deeper that stirs within him when he looks down on her face. Something that defies all definition.

“What are you thinking about?” Rey mumbles. Her voice is rough with sleep, and the intimacy of it warms Kylo to the core. 

“My parents,” he answers. “My father is Human, my mother is Vulcan. Their relationship spanned two worlds, and it eventually tore them apart.” 

She nods, pulling away enough that she can look up at his face. “I see.” She sighs. “I never knew my parents. They left me at the Jakku settlement on Kerecindal when I was quite young, five or six I think. That was when Commander Katana found me and enrolled me in the Federation’s orphan protection program.”

Kylo’s throat tightens. “Do you know what happened to them, at least?”

She shakes her head. “They never came back for me, at least while I was there. Years ago, I used to lie awake at night, imagining them returning back to Jakku to find me gone. I actually fought Commander Katana like an animal to try and stay behind, but she managed to subdue me, thank goodness.”

“So you’re happy you were found?”

“I am. Because of the program, I was given a chance to flourish, and to attend Starfleet Academy, which is something I had never even dreamed of when I was a child.” She shrugs, causing the blanket wrapped around her to slip off of her shoulders. “But part of me is still stuck back there, back at the moment my parents left me. I can’t remember their names, or their faces, or even why they left, and it’s haunted me for my entire life.”

Kylo runs his finger down her exposed shoulder, lost in thought. “Sometimes the brain hides things from us so that we can move forward.”

“But I can’t.” She looks up at him, eyes misty and broken. “I mean, I’m happy and excited for the future, but I  _ can’t let go _ , and it’s holding me back. I know it is.”

He draws back his hand and clasps it into a fist. “Rey,” he starts, then pauses, reassessing his words. “I-I may be able to help you.”

“Help me?” She frowns. “With what?”

“Your memories. I can- have you ever heard of a mind meld?”

Her features sharpen as she thinks back to her studies. “Vaguely. It’s something Vulcans can do to control people, right?”

“Not exactly. Essentially, I can look into your memories, and maybe reveal something about your past, something you may be unaware of.”

“Does it hurt?”

He shakes his head. “No. Not if you’re willing to open up to me.”

She pauses in thought for a brief moment, then nods. “I am. Do I need to do anything special?”

“Not at all.” Kylo arranges the blankets so that they’re both well supported, or as supported as they can be while reclining on the floor. “Just  _ breathe _ .”

Pressing his fingers to her forehead, cheek, and temple, he takes in a deep draw of air, steadying himself and calming his mind. Then he gives the slightest psychic push and tumbles headfirst into the chasm of Rey’s psyche.

_ Throbbing heat in her cheeks and a stickiness between her thighs. He’s looking at her with such hunger...what would it be like to give in? To surrender, to quench that thirst he’s panting for? _

_ The sensation of thin broth flowing over her tongue. It’s more flavourful than she expected; rich and vegetal with a hint of umami flavour. She sighs, satisfied, and digs in for another spoonful, all while keeping an eye out for a familiar dark haired half-Vulcan she makes a habit of antagonizing. _

_ Her stomach clenches with disappointment as she reads the assignments.  _ “Vulcan,”  _ she murmurs, heartsick. She’s dreamt of days shadowing engineers in the dynamic facility at Utopia Planitia, and now what? Stuck researching boring old archives and listening to lectures on philosophy and plant biology, most likely.  _

Kylo focuses, going deeper and deeper, rushing past memories of past lectures, social gatherings, excitement, heartbreak, loneliness. Everything speeds past in a mess of colour and emotion, until he arrives at a suspiciously empty corner of her mind, occupied by a lone spectre wrapped in beige and tan rags.

She looks up at him with hazel eyes. “ _ You’re not supposed to be here.” _

“I know.” He hunches down so that he’s level with the young girl, who can’t be more than five or six years old. “But you need to let me in. The time for hiding is over.”

_ “But she doesn’t want you here,”  _ the girl insists.  _ “I don’t want you here.” _

“I realize that. But it’s time to let go.” He holds out a hand. “Please, let me pass. You’ve done such a good job protecting her, but she’s strong enough to face these memories now. She wants to.”

_ “No!”  _ Tears run down the girl’s face, and she scrambles around the darkness, searching for something.  _ “You can’t come in! You can’t see these things! She doesn’t want you to.” _

“Rey, no!” 

The space around him contracts. She’s trying to force him out, trying to protect these memories she buried in the darkest depths of her mind. The little girl runs at him, armed with a long staff she’s pulled from the shadows. He holds up his arms defensively as she strikes him, harder than any small child would be able to. Bruises blossom on his arms, chest, face until he finally screams “ENOUGH!”

The girl’s staff snaps in half under the force of his psychic blast, and he goes tumbling again, faster than before. Memories flash past him, but these ones are tinged with darkness, shame, fear, anger, desperation. He can’t slow down, can’t examine them, but he catches fragments-

_...blood on her undergarments. The taunts of all of her classmates, her face red with embarrassment- _

_...hungry, so hungry. The crunch of rat bones against her teeth- _

_...why did they leave me? Why don’t they want me anymore? Please, please come back, please mommy- _

“NO!” He flails out, trying to grasp the details, fingers scrabbling against nothing. Frustrated, he focuses his mind further, focuses on the emotions she felt, focuses on the memory, focuses on  _ something- _

He’s tumbling headlong against the floor, falling down steps or some sort of ledge. When he opens his eyes, he’s greeted by another memory, clearer than most but still tainted with the greyish fog of suppression. The setting is vaguely familiar; he’s on  _ Vulcan _ , and is that  _ Luke _ seated on the sofa?

_ “I can get you in.” _

Rey is seated across from Luke, along with her friend, the cadet from before. She’s chewing on the side of her cheek, a mixture of concentration and worry in the furrows of her brow.  _ “Kylo and I have spoken several times, and he’s been open to showing me what he does at the Academy. If I mirror his access code, both of you could sneak in to their headquarters while he’s on site, access the files, and avoid detection.” _

A heavy weight falls into the pit of his stomach, and he suddenly feels sick. “No,” Kylo breathes. “R-rey, Rey why?”

There’s a tap on his shoulder. He turns, and the little girl is back, her rage replaced by a calm sadness. “ _ She didn’t want you to see this,”  _ she says.  _ “But now you have.” _

He opens his eyes.

Rey’s still groggy from the meld. She gazes up at him, soft and a little dopey. “Did you see them?” she mumbles. “Nothing seems to be different for me, I can’t-”

Rage and embarrassment are churning below the surface of his skin, but he manages to calm it with a couple of deep breaths. “I saw enough.”

He pulls away, shivering against the splash of cold air against his skin as the blanket falls down. Frowning, her fingers grab at his arms, but he’s already halfway up, scrambling for his clothes, pointedly avoiding her gaze. He feels exposed, and not just physically, betrayed by the one person he thought he could truly trust.

“K-Kylo, whats wrong?”

“I thought- I thought-” He can’t come up with the words, his thoughts a jumbled mess tumbling through his brain. The discovery of her scheming is a fresh sting further marred by his already fraught mental state. “You-you  _ betrayed  _ me. You lied to me.” He rummages through the clothing collected next to them, pausing when he encounters something hard in her pocket. He pulls it out.”What is this?”

“It’s a code transmitter.” Her face hardens. “But you already know that, don’t you?”

He grits his teeth. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

“What  _ I’ve  _ done? What about what you and your friends wanted to do?” She grips the blanket to her chest as she sits up. “The Federation is my  _ home,  _ Kylo. It’s the only home I’ve ever had. I don’t care if you think that it would be better for Vulcan to leave; I think it will only lead to destruction, both for Vulcan, and the Federation itself. Don’t you see it? Don’t you see how the Romulans just want to separate you from your allies? Don’t you  _ understand _ ?”

He doesn’t respond, just roughly tugs on his clothes with an angry scowl on his face. He can’t respond, can’t trust himself to continue to spout the gospel of division and purity while she looks at him with such hurt in her eyes. Already he feels his remaining defenses crumbling to dust, because he knows she’s right. He can feel it deep down, in the same part of his soul that she completed only moments before. 

_ But I have to keep moving forward. There’s nothing else for me.  _ This  _ will only lead to ruin. _

His expression goes perfectly neutral. .  Deflated, Rey sinks back against the wall, tears streaming down her face.

Once he’s fully dressed, the punches in the door lock code, then turns to look back at her. “So what was this?” he asks, softly. “Just part of your plan?”

“No, Kylo, no, not at all, I-”

He leaves without another word, the doors whooshing shut behind him.

*

She feels like garbage. 

It’s not that she regrets telling Finn and Luke about what she had heard. She would have done that again without hesitation. The integrity of the Federation is far too important to compromise for any sort of personal relationship, and it is her duty to do so as a Starfleet cadet. No, it’s the way she callously dove into making things  _ physical _ , all while knowingly distracting him from their plan to essentially frame him in the eyes of his Romulan co-conspirators.

Peeling herself up off the floor, she dresses slowly, wincing from the soreness in her limbs. Once she’s fully clothed, she taps on her communicator. “Rey to Finn. What is your status?”

A cold, cruel laugh is the only response. Her veins flood with ice.

_ No. _

“No, no, no, no!” Scrambling around the room, she tries to find something,  _ anything _ , she might be able to use as a weapon. There’s nothing; only blankets, rations, medical tricorders. Desperate, she grabs a hypospray and loads it with nitrous oxide, then slinks out of the room and down the deserted hallway, tricorder in hand. 

Finn’s communicator pings less than a hundred metres away, in what appears to be a little used conference hall. The room is locked, of course, but a couple taps on her code transmitter recalls Kylo’s credentials, which open the door with a quick  _ click _ .

“And who might  _ you _ be?”

The voice from the communicator belongs to a hunched, craggy old man located at the front of the room. At his feet are Finn and Luke, bound and gagged, and surrounded by other officers. They all appear Vulcan, at first, but upon closer inspection Rey notices that more pronounced brow ridges and the twist of cruelty in their expressions. 

The officer from before steps forward. “This girl is an associate of Kylo Ren. I believe he showed some  _ special interest _ in her at one point.”

The old man laughs. “I had suspected he was on the cusp of his pon farr. Did you have fun exploring interspecies relations, little girl?”

The crowd of officers laugh.

Rey holds her head high. “You won’t get away with this.”

The old man chuckles even harder. “Foolish child. You think any sort of data your compatriots may have found will be enough to compromise me? And you’re so convinced that your Federation comrades will get here quickly enough to capture us. That’s right; I detected your little distress signal as soon as you tapped that pretty communicator on your chest. As soon as your backup arrives, my officers and I will be long gone, along with your incapacitated friends.”

She can hear footsteps coming down the hallway, but if she hears them, that means that Snoke and his men must have picked them up even earlier. Her eyes go wide.

“Yes, yes, it’s a simple as pushing a button. You tell your Federation superiors that Vulcan will never be able to compete as a galactic superpower if it remains tethered to treaties and accords.” He nods, and one by one the officers surrounding him begin to dematerialize in the wake of a shimmering transport beam. “As long as the Federation continues to neuter itself and its member nations, they will never be able to break free of the bonds of mediocrity that bind them.”

He grins triumphantly, and reaches for his communicator. Turning to the last remaining officer, he barks out, “Hux, grab the prisoners. We’re don-”

He’s unable to finish his command. At the perfect moment, a dark, looming shadow rises from behind the two men, and two pale hands reach out, grasp the tendons in their necks, and  _ pinch _ .

Rey gapes as the limp bodies of Snoke and Hux collapse in front of Kylo Ren. “Kylo, w-where did you come from?” she stammers.

He pats his belt. “Personal cloaking device. Snoke outfitted his highest ranking officers just in case of an emergency. But no time to discuss. Go to the access panel third clockwise from the door and activate a quadradecimal scrambling protocol.”

Wordlessly, she does as he says, fingers flying across the keypad. “Done.”

“Good. Now the three cloaked warbirds orbiting Vulcan won’t be able to snatch their garbage back.” He gives Snoke a little kick for emphasis. 

She turns around to face him. His expression is neither hurt nor angry, just impassive and emotionless, the perfect portrait of Vulcan control. “Kylo,” she breathes. “I’m so sorry.”

The rest of her apology is swallowed in the rush of Federation officers that swarm the room. Strong arms grip her shoulders. “Cadet, are you alright?” a nameless officer asks. She nods, and is ushered to the side as more and more people crowd in to the board room, phasers raised. 

“Kylo Ren,” a gold uniformed officer announces. “You’re under arrest for conspiracy to commit treason against the Vulcan government.”

The other officers surround him now. One clips reinforced cuffs around his wrists, another fastens a neural monitor to his forehead. His face is still neutral despite the way his body is being jostled from side to side. 

“I have no defence to give,” he says, monotone. 

The security officer taps some information into his PADD, then gestures to his team. “Take him back to headquarters.”

“Wait!”

All heads turn towards Rey, who surges forward. “I need to know why you did it,” she pleads, turning to Kylo. “Why did you come back? Why did you stop them?”

It’s only then he cracks, his lips trembling and eyes glinting with emotion. “I don’t know,” he admits. “At the time, it seemed like the logical thing to do.” Then the mask slips back down, and he nods his head. “Live long and prosper, Cadet.”

*

_ Personal Log, Stardate: 70304.29 _

_ Well, we finally did it! Graduating from Starfleet Academy has been the most amazing experience of my life, and the most rewarding as well. I keep messing up as I introduce myself to others as ‘Cadet’- that’s Ensign Rey Johnson now, and you’d better remember it! _

_ Even through all of this excitement, I still find myself thinking of Kylo. I gave my statement to Starfleet command ages ago, and haven’t heard anything about the outcome. It makes sense, I suppose. Any sign of division within the Federation has to be contained, regardless of who is involved. I just wish that Luke or the Admiral would give me a hint about what happened to him, but they’re both being so professional. _

_ Honestly, I’m still guilty for how it happened. After everything he’s been through, I can’t imagine how he feels, being betrayed so soon after baring yourself to someone, after being with some- _

_ *sigh* _

_ End of personal log. _

“Ladies, Gentlemen, Genderless, and Non-Binary beings.” Lt. Dameron enters the mess hall with a swing in his step and a smile on his face. “You are now looking at the new helmsman for the  _ U.S.S. Proxima,  _ NCC-77525.”

Rey, Finn, and his girlfriend Rose let out simultaneous gasps of surprise and excitement. Poe swaggers over amidst the cheers of their fellow officers and slides into the empty chair at their table. “So, anyone else receive their new commission yet?”

“I have!” Rose blurts out. 

“ _ We _ have,” Finn corrects, grinning. “Rose and I have been assigned to the new  _ U.S.S. Reliant _ . _ ” _

“Nice. Those  _ Defiant _ -class ships may not look like much, but they pack a mighty big punch.” “What about you, Rey?"

“I’ve been seconded to the Engineering department at the Academy for a work study. Professor O’Brien was really impressed by my capstone project on modifying Romulan pulsar containment fields to stabilize potential transwarp generators.” She shrugs. “At this rate, I’ll probably never leave the planet again, let alone the quadrant.”

“Hey, hey, that sounds awesome! I would kill for Professor O’Brien to even know me by name, honestly.” He pauses, and raises a hand in caution. “Kidding, of course. I would only slightly maim someone for that honour."

Rey laughs halfheartedly

“You free this afternoon?”

  
“Why?”

“Well, you seem kind of bummed, and I was planning on taking the 1300 transport to Utopia Planitia to spend some quality time with my girl. The  _ Proxima _ , that is.” He chuckles. “There’s room on the transport if you would like to tag around.”

It’s not the same as roaming the galaxy for months on end, but Rey will be damned before she lets a crabby mood and petty jealousy prevent her from exploring a site she’s wanted to see for ages.

A short jaunt later, they arrive at Utopia Planitia with hours to spare for exploring. Poe, of course, sticks close by his ship, interrogating the mechanics about all of the upgrades and performance modifiers they’ve given the  _ Proxima. _ Rey is given free rein to explore, and she takes full advantage of it. It’s everything she had expected it to be and more. The shipyards are the very definition of epic, stretching thousands of kilometres around the Mars colonies, and are bustling with exterior transports and crowds of mechanics and flights crews who are busy assembling and testing the ships docked at each starport. 

Hours later, she returns back to the  _ Proxima _ right before they’re scheduled to return home. She glances over at Poe, who is chatting animatedly with an engineer about transphasic shielding’s effects on maintaining a sufficient cruise speed. He looks up at her and shrugs an apology.

“Sorry, Rey. I’m afraid I’m going to be here for a little bit. May just bunk in one of the cabins overnight. Don’t let me keep you. The transport should be leaving soon; make sure you don’t miss it.”

“Of course.” She smiles, privately amused at how attached Poe is already to ‘his’ ship. 

She takes a final look around the landing bay, taking in the ships, the stars, the business of the officers welding and programming. Despite the chaos, there’s a lingering peace that permeates the place. There’s an observatory deck overlooking the  _ Proxima _ that looks intriguing, but she can’t risk missing her transport, so she turns and heads down the corridor towards the turbolift.

And then she feels it. The whisper of something, something tingling at the back of her mind, telling her to turn around, look behind her,  _ please, please see me _ .

So she turns, and there he is.

_ Kylo. _

If possible, he’s even more imposing in a Starfleet uniform, the dark grey shoulders only serving to highlight the broadness of his frame. He dwarfs the already diminutive Ferengi officer next to him, who is chatting animatedly about something called ‘tongo’.

Transport forgotten, Rey walks back to the observatory, her eyes locked on Kylo the entire time. His lips are slightly parted, cheeks flushed, attention entirely diverted from the officer in front of him. 

“- so then she evades, but  _ I  _ had already established a monopoly without her knowing and, Kylo, are you even paying attention?”

She’s close enough that the other officer notices her, his nostrils flaring with confusion. But Rey is completely fixed on Kylo; he’s here, he’s  _ free _ , he seems happy? She takes in the splash of blue at his throat, the pips on his collar, all while her brain threatens to short circuit, confused by the juxtaposition. 

“H-hi.”

“Ensign.”

“ _ Sir. _ Commander,” she adds, eyes scanning the other officer’s collar. 

“At ease, Ensign.” The Ferengi cranes his neck to look up at Kylo. “Do you two know each other?”

Kylo gives him a curt nod. “Yes, sir. This is Ensign Rey Johnson. Our paths crossed while she was stationed on Vulcan for an exchange. Ensign, this is Commander Nog, the first officer of the  _ U.S.S. Proxima _ , where I will be serving as a science officer.”

“You-you’re serving on the  _ Proxima _ ?” She takes in his appearance: cleanly shaven, hair grown out enough that it almost brushes his shoulders, face calm and relaxed. It so starkly contrasts to her last image of him, disheveled and handcuffed, that she frowns and shakes her head. 

Kylo notices how flustered she seems, and turns to his superior officer. “Commander, would you mind-?” He leaves the request unsaid, relying on the Ferengi’s observational skills to fill in the pieces. 

Looking up at Kylo, then over at Rey, Commander Nog gives a small sigh of understanding. “Ah yes, of course.” 

“Thank you, sir.”

“Any time.” He lowers his voice to a hiss. “And let me assure you that my door is always open, if you need any advice on  _ females _ .”

“Thank you, sir,” Kylo repeats, a bit louder. 

The Ferengi gives one last wink, then heads back over to the  _ Proxima _ , leaving Rey and Kylo alone in the observatory. Still flabbergasted, Rey gestures a trembling hand at the pips on his collar. “You reenlisted.”

“I did.” He looks down at his uniform and picks off a stray piece of lint. “I was fortunate that Admiral Chakotay was sympathetic to my cause. He argued that my willingness to reenlist was ultimately a sign of good faith, and should be considered in commuting any espionage charges. That and my testimony against Snoke and his followers…” His voice trails off, and his mouth twitches. “Ultimately a sentimental and illogical decision, but one I do not intend to abuse.”

“And they reinstated your rank?”

“Almost.” He runs his finger along his collar. “I was a full Commander when I resigned, the youngest since Captain Icheb, though I attained my rank without the augmentation of any Borg implants.”

“Rude.” She chances a smirk. “So, Lieutenant Commander, why did you do it?”

He meets her gaze intently, as if attempting to communicate the wisdom of the galaxy in a single glance. “Why did I reinstate?” he muses. “Perhaps I managed to work through my own emotional baggage from my upbringing enough to move past it and start repairing the trusts I had broken. Perhaps I had an encounter with a cadet who showed me that together our strengths overcome our weaknesses. Perhaps-” 

Taking in a deep breath, he reaches up and tucks a stray lock of hair behind her ear, his fingers just brushing the delicate skin of her neck. “-perhaps a small part of me hoped this would give me a chance to see her again.”

Rey shivers at his touch. Though it’s not quite as electric as when he was in the midst of his pon farr, the contact is still enough to make a jolt run through her body. “That’s quite the commitment riding on such a small chance,” she breathes. “What if she doesn’t reciprocate any sort of feelings you may have for her?”

“Feelings.” He rolls the word around in his mouth like a candy, savouring every facet. “Yes, I suppose I would consider them feelings.”

“And how does that make  _ you _ feel?” she wonders, trying to stay objective even as her heart thumps in her chest. “Having feelings for someone?”

“Free. I feel free. And the chance to see her is worth any risk, worth any commitment. If she doesn’t reciprocate-” His voice drops to a whisper, “-it would have been worth it all just to see her face one more time.”

_ “Final boarding for transport 58172 to Starfleet Academy.” _

“That’s me.” She takes in a gasp of air, cursing herself for her mindless time wasting flirtations, suddenly full of everything she wants to say to him,  _ needs _ to say to him. “Kylo, I-”

“The  _ Proxima _ ’s mission is for six months, then shore leave,” Kylo blurts out. “Just surveying and exploration. I don’t expect you to-”

“I’ll be waiting.” She starts to break away, even as her heart screams at her to stay with him.  “That is, I don’t expect an off-world commission in that time. I’ve been really busy in the warp containment lab, and Professor O’Brien wants me to stay on until at least the start of the winter semester, so-”

“We should be in communications range the entire time, I could ca-”

“That would be lovely. I don’t go out much; I would be free most ni-”

“Rey.” He pauses, chewing the side of his cheek nervously, trying to come up with the words to say. Finally, he holds up his hand in the Vulcan salute. “Thank you.”

Her hands are already shaking, so her attempt to return the gesture is even more hopeless than before. After wrestling with them for a few moments, she simply drops her ring and middle fingers and hold up the rest in a halfhearted wave. “Uh, you too.”

_ “Paging Ensign Johnson to loading bay 5. Ensign Johnson to loading bay 5 for transport.” _

She drops her hand. “I really have to go.” 

She reaches the transport in a second, her heart thumping hard against her chest. “Deck Five,” she says, eyes still focusing on Kylo’s hopeful face framed by a background of a thousand stars, the firey red glow of Mars looming in the distance. The last thing she sees, before the turbolift doors slide shut, are the corners of his mouth curling up into a small, beautiful smile.


End file.
